Saving Me
by JAFootnote
Summary: "But when we were in the car, I have to say I was truly happy then. Happy to find he didn't hate me. Happy that everything was fine and funny before what came next" TRIGGER WARNING Rated M for rape UsUk One sided FrUk
1. Chapter 1

_Saying that it's been a while would be an understatement. However, I hope to redeem myself and show my growth as a writer with this one. And of course, as always, I would love for you all to enjoy it!_

Everything he said was funny at that point. Embarrassing recollections from grade school, falls from bikes, school functions. Everything was hilarious. _Laugh Arthur laugh._ The car's engine added to the rumble of their laughter. Arthur brought his hand up to rub the spots out of his eyes, but to no avail. The neon sign of the fast food restaurant began to blur. His head hit the window with an audible 'thunk'. He glanced sideways towards the driver's seat, searching for HIM.

"What's going on?" He was able to slur out. His mind was going fuzzy. Arthur's eyes landed on the man in the driver's seat. Was he smiling? Why was he- "Francis?" Arthur's voice was barely above a whisper. A hand reached out, pale in the glow of the neon sign, and ran its fingers through Arthur's messy golden locks.

Emerald eyes, heavily lidded, looked from the fluorescent hand to the blue eyes of the other man. "Good night Arthur." A voice, swimming in a French accent cooed. "Good night." The smile was the last thing Arthur saw before his world went black.

His hearing was the first of his senses he regained. Someone was moving about, their feet shuffling upon the floor. Arthur altered the position of his head a bit finding it a painful motion. He was lying face down upon something and whatever his face rubbed against was hard, rough, and cold. Concrete? The shuffling noise got closer and Arthur felt his arms being pulled behind his back and a certain constriction being placed upon them. He attempted to move his legs only to find himself unable to do so. Arthur slowly cracked open his eyes. There really wasn't much difference. Wherever he was, it was pitch black save for a small light source coming from behind him. Again Arthur moved his head to look in the direction of the light. It was at this point that he realized that he was completely nude.

Lidded eyes went wide at this realization. Arthur's eyes darted around attempting to make sense of the situation.

"Are you awake now Arthur?" The same French accent-coated voice questioned. Arthur mildly registered that his whole body began shaking.

"Francis, what-"Was all Arthur could croak out before a pair of foreign lips covered his own. Arthur tried desperately to pull away only to have cold hands press against his cheeks (enough to feel his cheekbones creak in protest) to hold him in place. The other man's tongue forced its way into Arthur's mouth and, try as Arthur might, he could not force it out. When the kiss was broken Arthur gasped sharply and stared wide eyed at Francis.

"Don't look at me that way Arthur." Francis chided after tsking lightly. "It's your fault for seducing me with those eyes of yours and that English accent. How vile of you." Francis sighed and grabbed the source of light which happened to be a small flashlight. He held it over what appeared to be a duffel bag and began rummaging through it. The flashlight shone on Francis's bare chest.

Arthur attempted to squirm away only to discover that his muscles were not functioning correctly. He was unable to move his arms and legs, and no matter what he did he could not move an inch from his position. "Francis, wait! Don't do this! If this is about your confession…I-I can learn to! If you give me some time I can learn to love you, I promise! _Please_, just don't do this!" Arthur pleaded, his green eyes wide with fear.

Francis, who seemed to find what he was searching for, crawled back over to Arthur who continued to plead. "_Francis please!_" Arthur screamed. Francis shed the rest of his clothing and unscrewed the top off the bottle that he retrieved from the bag. Francis who was now utterly bare poured some of the contents of the bottle onto his palm. He then ran his head over his now evident arousal. Arthur looked back, galvanized and terrified. He couldn't be serious, could he? "Francis just give me time!" Arthur yelled, pleading once more with Francis to reconsider.

Francis smirked as he hovered over Arthur and jerked Arthur's hips forward so that he was prostrated before him. "But why, _mon petit lapin_, would I wait when I can make you love me now?" With that Francis thrust into Arthur harshly. Arthur let out a blood curling shriek. Grabbing the flashlight, Francis shone it on Arthur's tear stained face. "Arthur~ Be a dear and tell me you love me." Francis cooed. Arthur bit his lip, closed his eyes, and stayed quiet aside from the whimpers. "Arthur." Francis called firmly, thrusting particularly hard and causing Arthur's eyes to shoot open in pain.

"I-I Love You!" Arthur sobbed out. Why? Why was this happening?

"Good. I don't need to hear anything else." Francis grabbed two objects from the pocket of his pants which laid to his right. One of the objects, duct tape, he took and wrapped it around Arthur's mouth. He then took a cloth and made Arthur blind to the world.

The duct tape muffled Arthur's cry of shock when Francis resumed his harsh thrusting. Tears slipped down raw cheeks from behind the cloth. In, out, in, out, in, out; the torture took on a vicious rhythm. Francis was thrusting into him at such an animalistic pace, letting out disgusting grunts of pleasure. Arthur was relatively quiet now, having given up fighting and the idea of someone saving him. Silent, salty tears created a continuous stream down his red cheeks. He was sure that his inner muscle were torn and bleeding _there_. The pain that shot up his spine made him want to vomit. And then with one final thrust, it was over. Francis spilled himself inside Arthur, burning Arthur's abused insides. A terribly cold hand wrapped around Arthur's, Arthur himself now realized, arousal and he was stroked to completion. Disgust rose like bile within him. His body had betrayed him in the worst possible way. Francis pulled out and lifted his hands from Arthur's hips which had left bruises from the pressure exerted. Arthur could vaguely hear more shuffling sounds. The sounds of Francis pulling his clothes on Arthur guessed numbly. Arthur fell on his side, too weak to adjust his position.

Suddenly, Arthur felt something soft and slightly heavy fall on top of him. The ropes that bound his arms and legs were cut. "Get dressed Arthur. I doubt you want to stay here overnight. Bon nuit." Francis walked away. His footsteps got fainter and fainter. The sound of a door opening, the sound of that same door closing, the sound of feet on gravel, the sound of a car door opening then closing, the sound of an engine starting, and the sound of a car driving away.

Arthur weakly removed the duct tape and the cloth. Eyes straining, he slowly pulled on his clothing, his muscles stiff from the abuse and whatever Francis had slipped him. As he was tying the shoelaces of his sneakers Arthur looked to his side and noticed the dim light of the flashlight. Francis had left it. '_How generous_' Arthur thought monotonously. He grabbed the flashlight and shakily stood up as a sharp pain shot up his spine. He shone the flashlight around attempting to remember in what direction Francis's footsteps had receded in. The light landed on a rat which squeaked and scampered away. Arthur had to fight to keep the vomit down.

At last the light landed on a door. Arthur sighed and limped towards it. He slowly extended his arm, his hand resting on the cool metal for a moment before pushing the door open. He was greeted by the glare of some scattered streetlamps. Arthur shielded his eyes with his arm and proceeded down the steps leading from the door. He turned around to look at the building. There were steel, bold letters on it that spelled, 'Bonnefoy Co.' Bonnefoy. Francis Bonnefoy. Arthur grimaced. _How bloody fitting_. Not only an abandoned warehouse but a Bonnefoy abandoned Warehouse. What a cliché. "I remember this place now. This is the Bonnefoy warehouse on Watson Terrace." Arthur muttered. "I don't live too far from here." Arthur threw the flashlight over the railing lining the stairs and limped down the rest of them. When he had gotten to one of the streetlamps it became clear what a mess he was. His hair was much messier than usual, his green eyes were dull and bloodshot, his lips were swollen, his cheeks were a splotchy red, and a large crimson spot stained the seat of his pants. Noticing this, Arthur tied the green sweater he had been wearing around his waist. He decided that the hot sticky blood running down his thighs would have to wait.

He continued walking, barely noticing the lefts and rights he was taking. Cars zoomed by and a few stragglers of the night stood against a fence smoking, broadcasting their "Fuck Society" attitude. Within twenty minutes of autopilot navigation Arthur made it back to his family's house. He made his way to the back to the servant's entrance. Arthur opened the door (unlocked, someone was up waiting) and stepped through the pantry into the fully updated kitchen after closing and locking the door behind him. The house was still and Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. He'd have been surprised if his parents had stayed up worrying about him. Arthur walked out of the kitchen, through the dining room, and into the foyer. He got to the second step of the winding, marble staircase leading to the second floor when he heard small, quiet footsteps and an even quieter voice.

"Young master Arthur?" A feathery, English accented, female voice called. "Is that you?" At this point Arthur was thankful that the hall was only dimly lit (not to mention that the blood had dried and caked to his skin and pants so that no trail was left).

Arthur turned around slowly and met the hazel eyes of the head mad, Ophelia. Her auburn hair was in mild disarray and she had haphazardly thrown a shawl around her shoulders over her pajamas. "Hello Ophelia. Did I wake you?" Arthur greeted, keeping his voice level.

"Where have you been?!" Ophelia questioned in hushed urgency, rushing up to Arthur and gathering him in her arms with maternal concern. "We were all so worried!"

"Excluding my parents of course." Arthur added dryly. Ophelia pursed her lips. Before she could reply Arthur said, "Ophelia I'm terribly tired. I'm going to bed. Good night." Arthur hugged her lightly (awkwardly) and then ascended the remaining steps, shuffling to his bedroom door.

He stepped into his room, recognized his king sized bed and his sapphire bed spread, and finally felt that he had arrived home. Arthur slowly made his way to his personal bathroom, kicking off his sneakers on the way there. Absentmindedly flicking on the lights, he looked around. The gaudy white and peach tiles (his stepmother's brilliant décor idea) stared back at him. Arthur made his way toward the shower and turned the water on full blast. Shedding his clothing (_peeling _his pants off of his bloody legs) he stepped into the shower under the warm water as swirls of red mixed with it on the floor of the shower. The warmth felt comforting on Arthur's injuries and for a moment he almost forgot what had happened to him. Almost.

Memories of the last few hours suddenly bombarded Arthur's mind. He smacked his hands over his ears and sunk to the floor of the shower. Arthur wove his fingers into his hair and pulled at it as tears gushed from his closed eyes. Again and again the sight of Francis's leering face replayed in Arthur's mind, like a broken record.

Arthur popped up covered in a cold sweat. He ran a hand through his sweaty locks and slid uneasily out of his bed. It had been the same nightmare every night since three months ago, during that hot June evening. Yet it still frightened him as much as if it had happened yesterday. He dragged himself to his bathroom and flicked on the light, his eyes narrowing as they were burned by the sudden blast of brightness. Arthur shuffled over to the sink, turned on the faucet, and splashed cold water on his face, trying to rinse away the horrid nightmare. He looked into the mirror and found himself disgusted with his image. He had dark circles under his eyes making it appear as if he hadn't slept well in months, which was true but it didn't look good. Arthur closed the faucet and turned off the light. He returned to his bed and brought the covers up to his head. He eventually drifted into an uneasy sleep, pictures of that smirk still in his head.

_Looking back on it now, I realize that if someone had told me a week before…THAT time, that he would do that, I would never have believed them. Sure he was always a perverted git but he was also my best friend. Isn't it funny how it's always the people you trust the most? The people you admire the most; the people you've been through __**THE MOST**__ with? He told me he loved me. Expressed his completely devoted undying love for me…And I turned him down. I said we were such good friends and I couldn't see him like that. I was scared when he asked me to meet him. Thought that I hurt him and going to get a milkshake would be too bloody awkward. But I went. And maybe what followed that was my fault after all. 'I can't ever see you that way'? That was much too cruel. But when we were in the car, I was truly happy. Happy to find he didn't hate me. Happy that everything was fine and funny before what came next._


	2. Chapter 2

Wife comes downstairs and throws a fit.

Husband tries to console wife.

Wife points to stepson sitting at the table and yells.

Stepson pushes food around his plate.

Husband glances at son, nods, then hugs wife and pets her hair; he makes a promise.

Wife sniffles, kisses husband, and glares sideways at her stepson.

Stepson lowers his eyes and stays quiet.

Husband and wife separate and wife walks past stepson non-discreetly bumping into him…HARD

Husband barks an order at his son and follows his wife.

Son stays quiet.

It was the same routine every morning. Arthur's hick of a stepmother would throw some hissy fit and he would be the scapegoat for all her petty troubles. She would demand that Arthur be thrown out of the house (or shipped off to some private boarding school, away from view). He clashed with her image of a perfect family (rich husband, no kids). His father, Steven Kirkland, would console his stepmother, now Allison Kirkland as of seven months prior, and promise that Arthur would be out of the house as soon as he graduated from high school.

Allison, now satisfied, would display her triumphant satisfaction by either glaring or smirking at Arthur. Today it was a glare. To top it off she would do something like bump into him or "accidentally" spill some varying liquid on him. Arthur sighed lightly, grabbed his plate still full of food, and stood from his seat.

"Honestly, that woman." An annoyed voice huffed. Arthur turned and looked at Ophelia who was glaring vehemently at the doorway through which Allison Kirkland had left. "And Master Kirkland is no better." Ophelia lamented before turning brightly to Arthur. "Good morning Young Master Arthur!" She greeted just as brightly.

"Good morning Ophelia." Arthur greeted quietly. Ophelia's eyes landed on Arthur's plate and her smile ran away from her face.

"Did you not eat any of it?" Ophelia asked, her hazel eyes, now filled with worry, meeting Arthur's emerald ones.

"I'm sorry, I'm just not hungry." Arthur replied apologetically.

"But-ˮ Ophelia began, ready to lecture.

A car horn notified Arthur that Oscar, his personal chauffeur, was telling him it was time to leave.

Ophelia quickly took the plate from Arthur with one hand and with the other she brushed a few strands of hair out of his face. "Well go on then. Wouldn't want you to be late." Ophelia sighed, waving at Arthur as he thanked her, adjusted his messenger bag strap, and rushed out the door leading to the driveway.

Arthur entered the limo and Oscar, after happily greeting Arthur, closed the door behind him. Oscar opened the driver's seat door, slid in, and closed the door behind himself. Then, the car having already been started, he immediately exited the gravel driveway of the extravagant, opal colored house. Unpleasing images of gravel driveways raced through Arthur's mind and he willed them away. Oscar rolled down the window separating the front of the limo from the back. "How you doing kid?" Oscar queried, grinning briefly at Arthur before returning his attention to the road. Oscar was a young man, in his early thirties, about the same age as Ophelia, with unruly black hair that was covered with his chauffer's hat and soulful brown eyes. He had a slight New York accent when he spoke.

"Pretty well." Arthur responded, glad for the distraction.

"Wow. First day of being a senior." Oscar whistled, expressing how impressed he was.

Arthur nodded quietly. "One more year and I'll be out of that house." Arthur added monotonously laying his head upon the window lightly.

Oscar's smile visibly shrunk. "I'm real sorry about that, kid." Oscar sighed.

Arthur's emerald eyes met Oscar's brown ones in the rearview mirror. The car momentarily stopped for the red light. "Don't be." Arthur replied quietly, turning his gaze back to the street outside the window. "If it'll make father happy, then so be it."

Oscar frowned slightly but said nothing else as the light turned green and he continued driving. Arthur sighed quietly and let his eyes close only to quickly open them again. _'All the terrible things come back to me when I close my eyes'_ Arthur though wearily. The car suddenly stopped its movement, bringing Arthur out of his thoughts.

"We're here kid." Oscar stated, offering Arthur a small smile. Arthur again adjusted his bag strap and straightened. Oscar walked toward the door and opened it for Arthur. Arthur stepped slowly out of the car and was met with the rays of the brightly shining sun. He shielded his eyes which, again, made horrible memories resurface. He pushed them away and lowered his arm. Ahead of him stood the prestigious World United Academy. The school itself was very large rivaling the sizes of the largest university campuses. The majority of the buildings were built with brick and possessed a style very much of the Victorian kind. The lawns were smooth and well-manicured with only the most _tasteful_ plants embedded upon them. Needless to say the tuition was very expensive and one would either have to be very wealthy or very intelligent (and lucky) enough to receive a scholarship.

Arthur fell into the former category though many would argue that, with Arthur's exceptional grades, he could have easily gotten in through the later means. With a sigh, Arthur bid farewell to Oscar who smiled encouragingly, and walked through the wrought iron gates of the school.

"Arthur!" Someone called with unbridled enthusiasm. Arthur ceased his walking and turned around to see a girl with long chestnut hair and light green eyes running towards him. When she finally reached him she paused for a moment to catch her breath before smiling brightly at Arthur. She was clad in the mandatory uniform for girls attending World United Academy which consisted of maroon plaid dresses or skirts, white blouses, and maroon blazers or ivory cardigans with the school's insignia on the breast pocket. The male students on the other hand, wore navy plaid pants, white button down shirts, and navy blazers with the school's insignia also on the breast pocket.

"Hello Elizaveta." Arthur greeted cordially, looking anywhere but the lively girl's eyes.

"Hello Arthur! How was your summer?" Elizaveta questioned cheerily, a strong Hungarian accent present in her voice, as she pushed a strand of her brown hair behind her ear and adjusted the pink flower clip that held it out of her face.

Arthur grimaced slightly at the mention of his summer. "It was…adequate. Your own?" Arthur returned still not meeting her eyes.

"You know, the usual. Organizing this year's functions for the environmental club." Elizaveta shrugged. She turned her eyes fixedly on Arthur who fidgeted under her glance. "Arthur are you okay?" The girl asked gently placing a concerned hand on Arthur's shoulder.

The reaction was immediate. Arthur's whole body shook and he flinched away quickly. He dared to peep up into the Hungarian's face and saw nothing but shocked surprise written upon her features.

"Arthur…What-ˮ Elizaveta's concerned inquiry was cut short by the melodious chime of the school bell, signifying that the students who were still in the courtyard were required to enter the building.

"I-I have to go." Arthur murmured quickly and ran towards the school building, completely ignoring Elizaveta calling him.


	3. Chapter 3

_Wow you guys! I must say I'm pleasantly surprised. I wasn't expecting such a good reception of this story; though I do have a higher opinion of it than my previous ones. Thank you so much and please continue to give me your support._

Arthur quickly walked into the classroom and took a seat at the back of the class. This earned him many confused stares. (_Since when did Arthur Kirkland sit in the back?_) Arthur arranged his books neatly on his desk and remained silent. The teacher cleared his throat and began giving the traditional "Welcome Back to School" speech. Arthur sighed and wrung his hands in his lap, feeling eyes on him and pointedly refusing to meet them. His mind, despite his trying to push the images away, reminded him of that summer night. He had lost so much that night, his sanity and dignity vying for the foremost spot. Was there anything left for him? Arthur was snapped out of his depressing reverie by the intercom.

"_Arthur Kirkland please report to the main office. Arthur Kirkland to the main office._" The secretary's honey-coated voice called. The intercom shut off with a clicking sound and Arthur rose slowly from his seat. He walked down the aisle of (high end material) chairs, his eyes trained on the floor in front of him and his head bowed, once again ignoring those inquiring eyes (_stop staring dammit_). He quickly slipped out of the classroom and into the hallway. The hallway, of course, was also gorgeous and pristine. The floors were made of smooth and sparkling granite and marble columns lined the hallway like sentinels on watch. Intricate statues and paintings were placed aesthetically on the walls and throughout the hall.

Arthur walked quickly down a staircase, hurrying to the office (_I have to get out of the halls, he could see me-_). Once he entered the cubicle-filled room, he looked around curiously. Most of the secretaries were speaking on the phones, not all for work-related reasons. Arthur began to fidget again and wondered why he was called when there was a light tap on his shoulder. He flinched of course but hid that by promptly turning around. He was met with the brown eyes of the head secretary. What was her name again? Oh yes, Mrs. Morris.

"Good morning Mr. Kirkland." The secretary greeted cordially. She warily pushed her sole strand of gray hair among the other red ones behind her ear.

"Good morning Mrs. Morrison." Replied Arthur, nodding his head in greeting. His eyes flitted to the side as something, or rather someone, caught his attention. Standing behind the secretary was a young man with dark blonde hair and the brightest sky blue eyes Arthur had ever seen framed by wire-rimmed glasses. The blue eyes met Arthur's and the bespectacled boy grinned brightly at him displaying a mouth full of perfect, straight, white teeth. Arthur immediately returned his eyes to the wall nearest Mrs. Morris's face. The blue eyed young man cocked his head to the side and looked curiously at the other blonde.

"Arthur I was wondering if you could do something for me." The secretary stated cautiously as her brown eyes looked pleadingly at Arthur. Arthur slowly met her gaze, throwing a quick glance at the blonde behind her.

"Of course. Anything you need." Arthur replied quietly, providing the secretary with a wary smile.

"Thank you so much!" The secretary gave a relieved sigh and grabbed Arthur's hands. Arthur kept himself from flinching by continuing to force a strained smile. Mrs. Morrison beckoned for the blue eyed young man and he stepped forward beside her. "This is Alfred Jones. As of today he is now enrolled as a student here." The secretary stated in an effervescent manner that greatly contrasted her previous one.

"Nice to meet ya!" Alfred enthused, politely extending his hand towards Arthur.

Arthur, meekly extending his own hand, shook Alfred's outstretched one and responded with a quiet, "Pleasure."

"Now I know you're busy but I also know you're an extremely capable and well-balanced young man as well. I think you are the perfect person to act as a guide to Mr. Jones. At least until he becomes accustomed to things." Mrs. Morrison said, patting Alfred enthusiastically on the shoulder. "Oh, look at the time! You too had better hurry on to class!" She exclaimed after a rapid glance at the clock mounted on the wall above the door. She promptly handed a single sheet of paper to Alfred. "Here is your schedule Mr. Jones. Mr. Kirkland will see you to your class." The secretary said, ushering both blondes out of the office.

Both were silent for a moment before Arthur decided to speak. "What's your first class?" He queried, not meeting Alfred's eyes.

Alfred brought his schedule up to his face. "Uh…Shakespearian tragedy." He responded, glancing sideways at Arthur.

"That's the same class I have right now." Arthur stated. "Follow me." He said quietly, walking ahead of Alfred keeping his eyes away from Alfred's.

The strawberry blonde stared quietly at Arthur while they walked. "So…" He began as he continued to walk behind Arthur. Alfred pursed his lips as he tried to find a subject for conversation. The atmosphere was awkward and stifling. "So what's it like here?" Alfred queried lamely.

"It's a great environment to learn, but you have to work hard." Arthur murmured in response.

"Great! Who doesn't like lots of work?" Alfred quipped, laughing awkwardly.

"B-but it can be fun too! There are loads of clubs to join!" Arthur added hastily. Trust him to make someone hate this school on their first day.

"No, it's cool! I like to work hard. It keeps me busy and you know, it builds character." Alfred replied. "So your name is Arthur, right?"

"Yes." Arthur responded. He stopped outside the classroom door and looked curiously at the strawberry blonde.

Alfred smiled brightly and Arthur again felt the urge to lower his eyes but found himself unable to look away. "Cool, then I'll call ya Artie." He announced, giving Arthur a grin and a thumbs up.

Arthur felt his face begin to heat up as he finally let his eyes return to the floor. He nodded and quickly opened the door. Alfred grabbed it and winked at the shorter blonde.

"After you Artie." Arthur quickly shuffled through the open door and to his seat at the back of the class. He didn't raise his eyes as Alfred stood beside the teacher at the front.

"Well class, it seems we have a new student." The instructor announced, pushing up his glasses. "Please introduce yourself." He said stiffly, obviously perturbed at being interrupted.

"Sorry I'll make it short." Alfred apologized. He smiled a bit sheepishly at the instructor and the petulant demeanor slackened some. "So, um hey, I guess. I'm Alfred F. Jones from New York. It kinda sucks that I came here the last year of high school but I look forward to getting to know all of you." Alfred flashed one of his smiles and the effect was immediate.

"Hey!~ Sit over here!"

"No sit over here Alfred!"

"No way! The new kid's sitting over here! Right new kid?"

Students sitting in various areas of the room yelled for Alfred to sit by them, competing to place claim on the charismatic newcomer.

The strawberry blonde smiled but scanned the room. His sapphire eyes landed on the Brit at the back of the classroom. Alfred's smile shrunk when he noticed there were no seats empty near Arthur, who still refused to look up. Alfred visibly slumped as he took a seat at the front of the class near a group of broad-shouldered jocks. They all proceeded in congratulating Alfred on his "good choice" and clapping him on the back.

Arthur twiddled his thumbs in his lap and did not look up for the remainder of the class.


	4. Chapter 4

_So this new-fangled fanfiction is very different from that of my memories so an old timer like me gets confused. If anyone has been reviewing and I haven't replied I sincerely apologize. I'll figure it out eventually w_

"This is one of the lunch rooms."

"Lunch rooms? No cafeteria?" Alfred questioned, looking incredulously at the blonde Brit to his right.

Arthur shook his head and opened a door, indicating for Alfred to peer inside.

Slowly Alfred poked his head inside the doorway. The sight he was met with was a room akin to a Victorian parlor in appearance. There were several small tables where two or three students sat drinking their tea in slow, dignified sips and eating their lunch in the same manner. Classical music playing completed the tranquil and aristocratic atmosphere.

"Wow…uh, really…eloquent." Alfred tried, again looking at Arthur.

"Yes, quite." Arthur agreed quietly.

"Well I mean my family _is_ loaded but none of the schools I went to before had anything like this." Alfred admitted sheepishly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of the brown leather bomber jacket he was wearing.

"Welcome to World United Academy." Arthur said, looking cautiously into Alfred's eyes. His lips turned upwards a bit. It wasn't a smile. No, nowhere near it. But it wasn't a frown either.

Alfred smiled in response and whistled. "It sure is fancy here. Makes me wonder what exactly the tuition is…"

Distantly, Arthur could hear Alfred going on about the schools he previously attended. Now, not listening to someone when they are speaking is considered rude and Arthur would readily agree but something else caught his attention as fear crept into his heart. His breath hitched and he felt as if he had been punched in the gut. Arthur's eyes instantly locked on to a figure sauntering slowly by, surrounded by giggling girls. The figure had blonde hair with gentle waves and dark blue eyes. His chin held a little stubble and the smile he flashed towards one of the girls screamed suave.

Arthur's shaky hands tightly gripped the door handle of the entrance to the lunch room. Suddenly blue eyes met his own and he could _feel_ the fear reverberating through his body. Arthur did not notice he was hyperventilating until a tentative hand was placed on his shoulder. He yelped and quickly pulled away as if he had been burned.

Concerned baby blues cautiously regarded Arthur. Alfred slowly retracted his hand but stepped closer to the hyperventilating Brit. "Artie are you-ˮ Alfred started.

"I'm sorry. I have to…" Without another word Arthur ran swiftly away from the deeply confused American. For what seemed like an hour to him, Arthur ran with no destination in mind, furiously pumping his legs.

Arthur burst through the door of the restroom and slammed his back against a wall near one of the sinks. Chest still heaving, the Brit brought his furiously shaking hands up to loosen his navy tie. Arthur slid slowly down the wall until he was firmly seated on the cold tile floor. He laid his head heavily in his hands as he made an attempt to even out his breathing.

"Calm down." Arthur ordered himself through gritted teeth. "You knew he would be here. Just stay away. Stay away." The sandy blonde repeated the last sentence over and over again like a mantra. The soft dripping of the water from the faucet and Arthur's hushed murmurs were the only sounds resonating throughout the pristine lavatory.

0101010101010101010101

"Hey new kid!"

Alfred turned around in his seat in the lunch room and was met with a wide smirk. "Oh hey there. Gilbert, wasn't it?" The American greeted, smiling at the other boy. He was definitely albino seeing as he had pale skin, whitish hair, and deep crimson eyes.

The albino guy let out a weird laugh. It sounded like _sesesese_ or something like that. "Yeah that's me." Gilbert replied still smirking. He dropped heavily into the seat across from Alfred at the small circular table. "So what are you doing here all by your lonesome? I thought Herr Kirkland was showing you around."

Alfred's smile instantly shrunk at the mention of Arthur. "Yeah he was, but he ran off and disappeared. I haven't seen him since." The American responded, running a hand through his hair nervously brushing down his cowlick only for it to stubbornly pop back up.

"Hmm I see." Gilbert murmured thoughtfully. "Maybe he fell down a flight of stairs." The albino suggested cheerfully.

"What?!" Alfred exclaimed, standing instantly and drawing many stares from around the room.

"Kesesese." Again with that weird laugh. "It was just a joke new kid. Calm down."

Alfred pursed his lips and sat. "Well it wasn't very funny to me." He grumbled, unamused.

"Relax, he's probably yelling at someone for having the _audacity_ to be out of uniform." Gilbert attempted to imitate Arthur's accent as he leaned back in his chair.

"Arthur?" Alfred stared at the albino quizzically. "That doesn't sound like him at all." The strawberry blonde stated pensively.

"You don't know Arthur Kirkland then." Gilbert responded chuckling.

Alfred hummed in response. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a figure approaching the table. His head snapped to the side so that he could fully face the figure. "Arthur there you are!" Alfred exclaimed smiling at the other blonde. His smile immediately shrunk when he took in the sight before him. Arthur's hair was in disarray as was his clothing. Red framed those emerald eyes and, in contrast, the color was drained from his face. "Arthur-ˮ Alfred began, stumbling for words.

"I'm terribly sorry about that Jones. I suppose I've fallen under the weather without fully realizing it." A strained laugh. "Nevertheless it was quite rude of me to abandon you when you are so totally unfamiliar with your surroundings. I apologize." Arthur stated while straightening his tie and smoothing out his blazer. He raised a hand to fix his hair but deciding that it was useless, his hair was always so difficult, gave it a quick pat and lowered his hand. "This is your lunch period, correct?" The Brit questioned Alfred.

The strawberry blonde pursed his lips as if he wanted to say something further but bit his tongue. Instead, Alfred nodded in response. "Yeah it is." He replied, looking skeptically at the sandy blonde Brit.

"Good, it is mine as well. May I?" Arthur queried, gesturing toward the empty seat between Alfred and Gilbert.

"Yeah sure. Go ahead." Alfred said in response. Arthur slowly pulled out the chair and sat down.

"Hello Gilbert." Arthur greeted the albino cordially.

"Hey Arthur." Gilbert returned, smiling broadly. A man in a black suit approached the trio and pulled out a small notepad.

"Your order sirs?" He inquired in an extremely stiff tone.

Alfred looked quizzically at the suit clad man. Order? Before he could form a question Arthur spoke. "Just a pair of scones and a cup of Earl Grey please." The Brit stated.

The man nodded, scratched on the notepad, and turned to Gilbert. "Ah strudel should do it for me."

"Very good. And you sir?" The black clad man questioned, his eyes landing on Alfred.

The strawberry blonde fumbled for words for a moment before getting out a confused, "Burger and fries?"

The man raised a quizzical eyebrow but scribbled down the American's order. "Very good sirs. It will only be a moment." He announced before walking briskly away.

"What was that about?" Alfred inquired, once the man was out of sight.

"What was what about?" Gilbert responded looking at the American in confusion.

"That! You guys have waiters?!" Alfred inquired incredulously. "Is it just for the first day or something?"

Arthur and Gilbert shared a look before Gilbert turned back to Alfred. "No this happens every day." He answered, smirking at Alfred's shocked expression.

"Wow, this school sure is something." The American breathed out in astonishment while sinking back in his seat.

Gilbert laughed again. "Kesesese. Welcome to World United Academy."


	5. Chapter 5

"Aw this is no fair." Alfred sighed resignedly. Upon discovering that Arthur did not, in fact, have an identical schedule to his own, the strawberry blonde sunk himself into a pouting fit.

"What's the matter?" Arthur questioned, after hearing Alfred sigh for the fifth time as the two blondes made their way to the biology lab.

"Everything. The first friend I made here is you and we don't have all our classes together like we're supposed to." Alfred mumbled, pouting still.

Arthur blinked owlishly at the taller blonde. "You consider me your friend?" The Brit questioned.

"Of course I do." Alfred replied not ceasing in his pouting.

"But we've only just met." Arthur retorted, pursing his lips while looking up at Alfred.

"And?" The American looked into the shorter blonde's emerald eyes, raising one eyebrow in a confused manner.

That familiar heat raised to Arthur's cheeks as he looked down. "Nothing I suppose." As they approached their destination Arthur gestured to the right, pointing at the glass door of the science lab. "This is the lab. If you wouldn't mind waiting a few moments after the end of the class I could return and show you to your next one." Arthur explained, eyes locked on the tiles of the floor the whole time.

"Sure, no problem." Alfred replied, smiling that smile once again.

Without a word of farewell Arthur quickly walked away leaving a very confused Alfred behind him.

010101010101010101010101

Yes; it was official. "The world definitely hates me." Arthur declared aloud looking again at the schedule in his hands. "Alright, just calm down. Just because it's French doesn't mean he'll be there. He's already fluent in the bloody language. You probably don't have any classes with him so stop being a git and calm down." Arthur ordered himself quietly as his hand grasped the polished brass knob of the classroom door. Without greeting the instructor or any of his classmates already present in the room the Brit silently made his way to a seat at the very back of the class.

A few minutes later the instructor, a petite bespectacled brunette, let out an extremely feminine "ahem" alerting the students that everyone's attention should be given to her. "Bonjour class." She greeted, smiling brightly. Arthur shyly looked up from his book to look at her and then quickly returned his eyes to the text. The French professor had shoulder length chestnut hair, crystal blue eyes, and wore a beret placed to the side of her head (could she have tried to be more of a cliché?). Arthur's emerald eyes scanned the room, and when he didn't see **HIM**, he let out a sigh of relief and continued to vaguely listen to the instructor explain why French was an important language to learn, especially for future corporation leaders (which the majority of the academy's students were).

"French is one of the most widely spoken languages in the world you know. It would be beneficial-"

"Just a moment, sil vous plait. My apologies for arriving tardy." A charming smile and Arthur could feel all his hopes crashing as an all too familiar fear made itself comfortable in the pit of his stomach.

"Francis." The instructor greeted tersely. "Why are you late the first day of class?"

"Excuse, Madame Benoit. I was assisting un petite first year to her math class." His voice could only be described as smooth.

"And that, monsieur, is more important than my class?" The small brunette raised an arched and questioning eyebrow followed by a swift crossing of the arms.

"Well it would have been un-gentlemanly of me not to assist a young lady who required it, non?" Now must students would still have been reprimanded, but not Francis. The Frenchman need only flash a smile and…

"Fine Monsieur Bonnefoy. But now, seeing as there are no more fair maidens for you to assist, I would like you to take your seat."

"Bien sur madame. Again, my apologies." Francis apologized and began to saunter towards an empty seat.

Arthur raised his book higher in an attempt to shield himself from the Frenchman's gaze. He inwardly pleaded that he would go on unnoticed.

"Arthur, mon ami! What are you doing all the way back there?" The world really did hate Arthur. Arthur's hands began to shake and turned white from grasping from the book so tightly. "Oh _mon petit lapin_," Arthur gasped sharply from behind the book, "are you ignoring me?" Francis basically purred the last sentence and the class burst with laughter as Arthur tried again to calm his breathing behind his ultimately useless hardcover barrier.

"Monsieur Bonnefoy, would you please control yourself and not cause any more interruptions." Madame Benoit shot Francis a venomous glare.

"Mais Madame, Arthur is ignoring me even after I have greeted him. Don't you think that's rude?" Francis returned with an amused smirk.

"Actually I find it sensible." She countered. "Obviously Monsieur Kirkland is ignoring you so that he will remain focused on his work. As he should be. Perhaps you would like to follow his example." Her tone was more commanding than questioning.

With an over dramatic sigh, Francis turned fully away from Arthur to face the front of the class. "As you wish." He said, perhaps not only to the instructor but to Arthur as well.


End file.
